As the baby’s pale blue, wandering eyes met those of his father and seemed to fix on him, Gaius’s arms tightened protectively around him. All the hardness had gone from his features now; his focus was entirely on the baby, as if he would do anything to safeguard this child who lay so trusting and helpless in his arms. It came to Eilan that even when Gaius had been making love to her she had never seen him look so radiant. She recognized the Father-face of the God.
“What sort of world will this be for you, little one?” Gaius whispered, his voice cracking. “How can I protect you, give you a home that will be secure?” For a long moment he and the child seemed lost in mutual contemplation; then the baby burped suddenly and began to chew on his thumb.
Gaius’s gaze returned to Eilan, and as he set the child once more within the curve of her arm she realized that, wan and exhausted though she might be, to him she was the Goddess as well.
“So, how do you like him, my dear?” she said gently. “I have called him Gawen, the name that your mother gave you.”
“I think he is beautiful, Eilan.” His voice was shaking. “How can I ever thank you for this great gift?”
Run away with me! her heart cried. Carry us both away to some land where we can all live together and be free! But the lamplight glinted balefully on the signet ring he wore, and she knew that there was no such country, beyond the reach of Rome.
“Make a world that will be safe for him.” She echoed his own words. She remembered her vision; in this child the blood of the Dragon and the Eagle had mingled with the old line of the Wise; the saviors of Britannia would come from his line. But for that to happen he must live to be a man.
“Sometimes I wonder if that is possible.” His gaze went inward, and she saw the grim shadow once more in his eyes.
“You have been in battle since I saw you,” she said gently, “you did not get that scar in Londinium . . .Tell me.”
“Have you heard about the battle of Mons Graupius?” Gaius’s voice grew harsher. “Well, I was there.” As the story poured out of him in a succession of images, she flinched, feeling the horror, and the pity, and the fear.
“I knew that something had happened,” she said in a low voice when he was done. “There was a night, a moon after Lughnasad, when I felt that you were in great danger. I spent the following day in terror, but the feeling passed off after nightfall. I thought then that perhaps you had been fighting, but though I could sense nothing more I was certain that you had survived! You are part of me, my beloved. Surely if you had died, I would know!”
Gaius reached out blindly and took her hand. “It is true. I dreamed I was in your arms. No other woman will ever live in my heart as you do, Eilan. No other woman can give me my first-born son! But —” His voice cracked. “I cannot acknowledge him. I cannot marry you!”
His face working, he looked down at the child. “When I could not find out what had happened to you, I kept telling myself that we should have fled together when we had the chance. I could have endured a life on the run if we were together — but what kind of a life would that have been for you, and what kind of life for him?” He reached out and touched the baby’s cheek.
“He is so little, so soft,” he said wonderingly. “If anything tried to harm him, right now I think I could kill it with my bare hands!” Gaius’s gaze flicked from the child to Eilan and he grew red, as if embarrassed by his own emotion.
“You said to make the world safe for him,” he went on in a low voice. “As things are now, I can think of only one way to do that. But you will need as much courage as some ancient Roman matron of the Republic.” At the moment neither thought it odd that despite their great Emperors, Romans always invoked the days of the Republic whenever they wished to call great virtue to mind.